Bite Me
by The Fragile Capricorn
Summary: Jade West knows exactly how to take advantage of having Tori Vega as her slave - or dog, whatever - for the day.


**Bite Me.**

* * *

You tell her to sit on her hind legs, lift her forelegs. You tell her to stick her tongue out, and pant.

You laugh when she (grudgingly) does what you tell her to, and you remind her again that, really, striking deals with you was just too risky because a) you always win and b) really, who wants to _win _against you?

You humiliate her in public. You even bought a leash for her. You tell her she deserves it. She thinks she can get away with anything because she's Tori freaking Vega. But you made a bet, and she lost it. It was a really stupid challenge, even, just to prove that she could do it – stay up all night watching all of _your _favourite horror movies alone, in the dark. If she bails, turns off the player, or escapes, she loses the bet. She has to face the consequence.

Consequence? Jade West's perfect little slave.

You sit beside her in class (hey, you're not cruel – you let her sit on a chair). The leash is black, and it's tied around her neck. You hold the leash and twine it around your hand, just in case she makes a break for it.

You bring her out for the world to see. You parade in the lobby, making her do tricks like a good dog. She heeds your every command, your every whim. You make her buy you a soda, some food. Fetch you something from your locker. She follows. You pat your head, and when you do, she pants like a puppy because you tell her to.

She allows you to humiliate her, only because she's too proud to break a stupid deal. You hate that. She's being played with, but she's still sickeningly gallant about it. She acts okay with the whole slave-for-a-day thing.

So you make her sit on the ground during lunch, and you put her food in the try. She has to eat with only her mouth, and she does. Grudgingly. Your friends think you're too cruel for doing this, but you insist that she's been asking for it. Not that you hate her, because you don't. You just hate how she makes you feel, and you take it out on her. You're twisted.

When it's time for you to bring her home – to her actual home, and not in a doghouse in your backyard, just like you wanted – you stop by the pet store and buy her some treats. You even make her pick out something she wants. She won't eat it, but she still picks something.

You go to her house (fortunately free of prying, prissy older sisters and/or parents who couldn't care less), make her lie down on the floor. She lies down on the carpet, watching you. You realize you haven't actually talked. But dogs don't talk. Slaves don't talk, unless their masters tell them to.

You kneel in front of her. You look into her eyes, and you see humiliation. You see her sadness, her regret, in taking on the bet and ultimately losing it. You feel pity, but you don't show it. She's too _Tori _to break down in front of you. You're too Jade to show your emotions.

Instead, you rub her tummy and stroke her head, and she looks at you curiously, her head tilted. Like a dog. You play with her, because you're not completely cruel, and because you actually possess a sliver of humanity and kindness for the person you don't hate. You tell her she's a good girl, and your tone is almost devoid of malice. She smiles, and barks voluntarily. It makes you want to puke, but it's also cute. You can't even see the shame in her eyes anymore, but she's just too damn dignified for that. She's an actress, wasn't she? She already became your dog.

You smile at her, and scratch her chin. She's been a good dog for the whole day, really, but you feel like you haven't taken advantage of the whole slave thing well enough. So you tell her to do something, and you feel like you're actually being marginally merciful to her because no one can see you. No one dared to spy on you.

You tell her to lick your face. She looks startled, but you tell her she's your slave – your dog – and she's supposed to do everything you tell her to. For a day.

You coax her. Come on now, you say, leaning in, eyes staring into her. Come on now, doggy. There's a good girl. She does, and she's hesitant. The tip of her pink tongue peeks in between her lips, and she cautiously licks your cheek. You can feel the softness of her tongue, the warmth. How it glides smoothly, and how your eyes close in pleasure(?) with each lick. She gives you another, and another, until your face is wet and you tell her to stop.

When she looks at you again, her eyes are filled with confusion. You detect the adrenaline rushing through her, how she's processing what she just did and why she did it. You laugh, not because you think she's actually stupid to follow _that _command, but because you actually made her do it. Sweet little Tori Vega licked your face, and you felt the gusto in how she did it. You wonder if she didn't hate you, too.

You tell her to bite you, and you don't even keep the huskiness in your voice a secret. You tell her to bite you on the neck, gently. Sink her teeth in you, and leave a mark. Because that's what dogs do, right? They bite things. And you're her mistress and she's your dog, and you have every right to hurt her if she doesn't. Not that you actually will. You're just testing the water.

So go bite, my slave-for-the-day. Here. You can do it, Tori.

You see her eyes narrow, her lips tighten, her jaw set. And for a moment, you think she'll spit in your face, or scream at you, or swear at you (even she doesn't spit or scream or swear). She doesn't.

You didn't actually expect her to do what you asked her to do, but she sank her teeth into the flesh of your neck, ever so slowly. You could feel her hot breath against the sensitive skin, and your eyes widen in surprise. Of what? Of how this actually turned you on? She licked your face and she's biting your neck, and you couldn't help but feel turned on. She even growls, and bites harder, and you involuntarily snap your jaws because that's how you've always flirted with her. You snap your jaws and you wish you could run your hands through the length of her hair, but you don't.

A moan escapes your throat, and your hands fly to your mouth as your slave's jaws unclench. She leans back, looks at you, and looks at the mark she made on your neck. A slight grin is playing on her lips. She looks satisfied, and you snarl. She looks triumphant, as if she were the mistress and you, the slave.

Tori bites her lip, and all you learned from school about subtext crashes in on you like a huge wave, because that was highly suggestive.

It was sexy.

* * *

_**A/N: **__This might come off as a poor excuse, but I had to write something Jori, and really, there were no concrete plot ideas and I just can't help but think that Jade would totally go for having Tori as some slave. Still, this isn't perfect, but I had to keep my gears turning. I'm not entirely certain if it's a good idea to pitch this one in public, but I did have fun writing this, though, and as always, reviews are highly appreciated. :)_


End file.
